Old Habits Die Hard
by daydreamer1227
Summary: The ban on magic has been repealed. Merlin should be able to use his magic without fear, but a lifetime of conditioning is hard to overcome. Arthur tries anyway.


It shouldn't feel like this. It shouldn't feel _wrong_.

Merlin knew it only felt like this because it was new, because it went against every survival instinct he had.

_Don't let them see it. Don't let them find out._

Once his heart and mind got used to the fact that magic was legal, that Arthur had repealed the ban, perhaps then it would feel more right. Perhaps then it would feel safe. But as it was, despite knowing that it was legal, openly using magic to clean Arthur's chambers made his palms sweat.

He'd expected to feel liberated, but the fear was so deeply ingrained into his very being that even knowing he wouldn't be persecuted, even knowing that using magic was no longer a cause for execution, he was terrified that someone would walk in on him.

His place in the castle was up in the air. Was he still Arthur's manservant now that the truth had come out? No one seemed to know. The King had been… preoccupied, since he found out, and Merlin had been incredibly busy running errands for Gaius, and if the two of them had been using their schedules to avoid talking to one another longer than they should have, then there was nothing that could really be done about that.

Since the repeal, Merlin hadn't used magic in front of anybody, and he hated that he couldn't bring himself to do so. It was frustrating. It was annoying. It was _embarrassing_ that he could only bring himself to use magic now, in Arthur's chambers, while he was isolated and alone doing a job he wasn't even sure he had anymore.

The door opened and Arthur strode in.

Merlin's breath caught in his throat. Rags and dusters and shoes all fell to the ground. The metal basin of water clanged hard against the floor as it overturned and spilled everywhere. A dirty dish crashed into a million pieces.

"_Mer_lin–" that annoyed voice.

Merlin's hands were shaking. "Sorry," he said, leaping to his feet as he scrambled to pick up the glass. His heart thundered in his chest and he couldn't bring himself look Arthur in the eye. All he could think of was the pyre, and burning––

"For goodness sake, Merlin, you're shaking like a leaf. I didn't think I had to knock to enter my own chambers."

Why did it feel like this?

"Merlin?"

His fingers weren't cooperating. His hand slipped and one of the larger pieces of glass sliced into the palm of his hand. Blood dripped onto the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to sit on the edge of the bed. "You really are a complete _idiot_, aren't you, Merlin?"

Merlin kept his gaze on the floor. He felt hot tears on his cheeks.

Arthur sighed. "It's not _that_ bad of a cut. No need to cry about it."

Merlin sniffed.

"Stupid. I should have done this days ago. Merlin, look at me." Arthur waited patiently. And then, not so patiently, "_Mer_lin."

Obedient, Merlin looked up.

Arthur looked an equal mix of uncomfortable and concerned. "This has to stop."

"I'm sorry," he said, not sure why he was apologizing.

"Shut up, Merlin," said Arthur. And that was old and familiar and it calmed Merlin's racing heart. "I'm afraid I can't let this stand." He stood up straight. "Merlin, as your King, I order you to use magic."

Merlin's eyes bulged. "What?"

"Right now. Come on then, make yourself useful and magic away this mess," he said, gesturing to the pile of glass.

"But–"

"Just do it, Merlin."

Merlin reached his hand out, but it shook.

_Keep it secret. No one can see. No one can know. _

Arthur's face fell. "Are you really that afraid of me?"

Merlin's mouth went dry. "No–_Arthur–_It's not…"

Arthur grabbed a rag from the bedside table and carefully wrapped Merlin's bleeding hand. "If you're not comfortable enough yet… I'll just have to prove to you that I'm worthy of your trust."

Merlin's face screwed up. "That's the rag I use for cleaning."

Arthur huffed. "What's it doing on my bedside table then? Honestly, if you were any good of a servant, you wouldn't leave cleaning rags lying around."

And because that embarrassed, sad look on Arthur's face was so wrong, because all of this was so _wrong_, Merlin placed his other hand over the bandage and muttered a spell, letting his eyes flash gold as the rag was purged of any uncleanliness. Arthur stilled.

"It was never about trust," Merlin said softly. "I've always trusted you, Arthur. I still do."

"Then what's the problem?" said Arthur, frustrated. "Magic is legal. You're free to practice it as you wish!"

"I know," said Merlin with a bitter laugh on the edge of hysterics. "I _know_!"

They sat in silence for a while, pondering. "Well," said Arthur, sounding resigned, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes, "there's nothing else for it. Merlin, you're not to leave my side for the rest of the day."

Merlin was instantly annoyed. "What for?"

"Come on! I have a meeting with the council and I can't be late, so keep up."

Merlin followed Arthur to the door, where they stopped.

And waited.

"The door, Merlin," said Arthur, pointedly. "Honestly. You've been my servant for how many years?"

Merlin reached for the door.

"Your hand is injured, dollophead. Just use your magic for now."

"That's my word," grumbled Merlin, even as he opened the door with magic.

And the day proceeded with Arthur ordering Merlin to perform menial tasks with magic. "Pull out my chair, Merlin," "This food is too cold. Don't take it to the kitchens, you idiot, just heat it up here." "Merlin, I've ripped my shirt on purpose. Fix it for me."

By the end of the day, despite his exhaustion, despite his irritation at Arthur ordering him around even more than usual, using magic in front of others didn't feel quite so wrong.


End file.
